


Nova

by stickylips14



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bittersweet, M/M, Post-Voltron: Legendary Defender, SHEITH - Freeform, not really a fix-it, not really fluff either, post-voltron sheith, they do end up together tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 03:28:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17820971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stickylips14/pseuds/stickylips14
Summary: “Come with me.” I say, “right now.”“In my pyjamas?” I shrug. We can get him clothes. I have money. First time in my damn life, I have money. I’ll buy him a new outfit every day if he wants, if he’ll just come with me. So I say it again.“Come with me.”





	Nova

I think it’s his sixth sense for trouble that wakes him. I thought it would have eroded during peacetime, but there’s only so much soldier you can take out of a man. When he opens his eyes he doesn’t startle, doesn’t even yawn or stretch, he just carefully climbs out of bed and walks over to the balcony door.

“You can’t do this.” He says as he closes the balcony door behind him with his prosthetic, still in perfect working condition, still running on the power she gave it. _She. Her._ I can’t bring myself to say her name. Even in my head, when I think it it’s accidental. But looking at his arm reminds me that Lance wasn’t the only one who got to keep her with him.

“I know,” I say, because I do. I’m standing on the wing of my cruiser. The engine makes my legs vibrate and my teeth feel hollow, even though engines are so quiet now. Quiet but busy. “But I am. You haven’t been returning any of my messages.”

Shiro slides his gaze to one side and when he wraps his flesh arm around himself it makes him seem so young, so young especially because everything else he does makes him seem so much older. He looks healthy, though. No longer tightly bound by muscles. His body has relaxed into his new lifestyle but I don’t think his mind has. “And you didn’t think it was because I didn’t want to see you?”

I step a little further down the wing and I see Shiro, just for a moment, flinch. He bites down on the urge to tell me to be careful. Apparently even that is too much affection these days. I won’t fall, for what it’s worth. I sit down to be more at eye-level with him, one foot braced against the railing with the other up so I can rest my chin on my knee. Shiro stares me down with his jaw still tense, still working away even as he steps a little closer, hesitating to lay his hand down on the top of my boot, just for a moment like he’s making sure it’s secure, before dropping his hand again. “Of course that wouldn’t occur to you.”

“It occured to me,” I say, “but the thought never stuck. How’ve you been? You look good.”

“ _Keith_.” Shiro says, finally, strained and pleading and trying to parade around as angry. “ _You_ _can’t do this._ ”

“I know,” because I do. “But I am.” Because I am.

“Being loved by you is Hell.” Shiro sighs, his nostrils flaring before he finally leans against the railing, only an arm’s length away from me. He presses his cheek against my leg and for a moment looks absolutely heartbroken. Inside, in his bed, his husband tosses in the sheets but doesn’t wake up. When I press my hand into Shiro’s hair he leans into the touch with his eyes closed. “Only thing worse is loving you back.”

Hearing him say it makes me feel winded and warm. I curl my fingers in his hair and he noses against my wrist until he gets past the cuff of my glove, finds a slither of skin to kiss and it burns deep into my flesh. I feel like a bruise should form. “You didn’t have to move on.” I say, quietly, with no heat and no judgement. I understand why he _did_ , but he didn’t _have to_.

“I couldn’t have come with you, Keith. I was so _tired_. Weren’t you?”

“I was angry,” I say and he looks up at me. With the city lights in them his eyes look like doll’s eyes. Glossy and bright. “But I think I’ve finally exhausted the well. Saved the world a little more. Made a mark.”

“We _can’t_ do this, Keith.” He agonizes.

“Why not?” I ask. He opens his mouth then snaps it shut again. His eyes slide to the side, towards the door but he doesn’t turn his head, doesn’t make contact with the collateral. It’s not like I feel good about it, but I don’t feel bad either. I was always callous. Not cruel, but for a long time now there’s been a gnawing selfishness in me that I feel entitled to. I think Shiro feels the same way. When I stand up again he doesn’t stop me, instead accepting my hand when I offer it to him. Bare footed he steps up onto the wing and squeezes my hand tight when the craft sways just a little under our weight, then corrects itself again. It’s been a while, I think, since he’s even been in an aeroplane. I hold still for him as he steps in close, examining me, his hands reaching for me but never landing. He traces my shoulders, my sides. His prosthetic hand curls around mine while his flesh hand gently strokes my cheek, just knuckles grazing my cheekbone as Shiro steps in closer, tips his head this way and that before leaning in to kiss me.

I kiss him back-- I’m helpless to do anything else. And he tastes the same as he always has. His stubble feels the same against my skin. I slide my hand down the side of his neck and pull back, brushing the tip of my nose against his.

“Come with me.” I say, “right now.”

“In my pyjamas?” I shrug. We can get him clothes. I have money. First time in my damn life, I have money. I’ll buy him a new outfit every day if he wants, if he’ll just come with me. So I say it again.

“Come with me.” He brushes a stray strand of hair back from my face, carefully tucks it back behind my ear even though the wind will shift it right back to where it was.

“I will.” I kiss him again, gently. I don’t need to ravage him like I’m claiming him; the thing is that we were never really anyone else’s. Not for keeps, at least. Holding his hand we walk the length of the wing and a press of my foot on a certain panel opens the cockpit to us. It’s as we’re climbing in that we look back, in through the balcony door, and see Shiro’s husband sitting up in bed. He doesn’t look surprised, or angry. Only a little sad. And Shiro does too, but his hand stays in mine and I turn my face away slowly and give them a moment before the shield for the cockpit closes over again and we peel away from the side of the building.

“Where do we go?” Shiro asks once he’s collected himself, lifting our hands to press his cheek to them, to kiss my knuckles. I give him a quick once over, tipping my head as I consider it.

“Space mall?” He laughs, dropping his head. I punch in the coordinates. We smile at each other and shake our heads like we can’t believe this is real. Like so many things, it isn’t perfect. It’s five years late and there’s a wedding band on Shiro’s finger and we’re both battle scarred and tired and deeply, quietly _afraid_ … But we’re together. Our broken bits will fit together, and we’ll do things on our own terms. We don’t owe the universe a damn thing anymore, but it has a lot it owes us.

**Author's Note:**

> -crawls out of my grave- i love me some bittersweet. i think i finally processed the ending of voltron. ngl, i wasn't thrilled with it then and i'm not now but by god i still love it. and i love keith and shiro and i've missed writing them. i think i plan to do more. maybe. if life allows it. working is Tough on the ol' creativity ( although his idea did strike me while i was mopping the staff room floor today. hm. )  
> as always, kudos and comments are greatly appreciated although this is just a sad little prattle that i really enjoyed writing LMAO!
> 
> Thanks for reading guys! love you! xx


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